


Get A Room

by Ad_Astra, isuilde, risotto



Category: Free!
Genre: Cuddles, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, makorin party round robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ad_Astra/pseuds/Ad_Astra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/isuilde/pseuds/isuilde, https://archiveofourown.org/users/risotto/pseuds/risotto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MakoRin Party Round Robin prompt: fluff and drunk cuddles in front of a fireplace in Switzerland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get A Room

**Author's Note:**

> Let's just get things straight: this is technically everyone's fault. :D

He has a garland around his neck. Rin is also burying his face into the garland around his neck, and then sneezes into it. It makes him laugh.

“I think you’ve had one too many, young man,” Makoto chides playfully.

There’s a soft snort of protest before Rin noses him again, making the blush burn hotter around his cheeks. “Fight me.”

Makoto laughs quietly and turns his head to the side, trying to hide his embarrassment on the crown of Rin’s hair. “You’re going to fight me? Here?”

He can feel Rin’s grin on the skin of his neck. “Are you daring me to?”

“That’s a trick question and you know it,” Makoto hums, the tips of his fingers somehow finding their way to the hem of Rin’s sweater. The red-colored wool is itchy and warm against his skin.

“But, let’s say for the sake of argument that I am,” he adds, his thumb tracing a small circle along the dip of Rin’s spine, “what then?”

“Hmmmmm—“ breath ghosting against his collarbone is probably his only warning before he feel sharp teeth grazing along the curve of his neck, sinking very, very slowly. “Let’s just say that you’re not going to win.”

The half-filled glass in Rin’s hand tips, ice clinking just as Makoto reflexively reaches out to steady it.

“Yeah?” Makoto teases. His fingers linger on the crease of Rin’s wrist, gliding slowly up and around the back of Rin’s knuckles. He keeps it there. “You can’t even hold on to your drink.”

“I won’t need to,” Rin grouses, but allows Makoto to take the glass from him and set it on the end-table beside the recliner—the too-small chair they’ve somehow snuggled themselves into without risking comfort. The amber liquid inside swirls, glowing in the light from the fireplace like a beacon.

Several of the lodge guests are in the lobby with them, pretending not to notice the skim of Rin’s teeth along the strong, sharp curve of Makoto’s shoulder, half over fabric, half over heated flesh. Shamelessly voyeuristic.  Normally Makoto would say something about it—that people are watching, that they should take it to their room, that it’s embarrassing—but now, all he does is trace the tip of his finger along the curve of Rin’s cheek, following the line down to the corner of his lips. The alcohol must be getting to him, too.

Rin tilts his head, ever so slightly, and brushes a kiss against Makoto’s finger.

Makoto’s breath catches in his throat—Rin’s lips barely touched his skin but he feels it in every single one of his bones. The fire crackles merrily in front of them, cinders flicking occasionally from the burning logs, its comforting, radiant warmth melting the frost off their skin and clothes.

And yet it couldn’t compare to heat of Rin’s body pressed up to him, or the heat his very presence stirs within Makoto, curling around his spine and blossoming upwards his chest. Instinctively, his mouth parts, mouth hot and ready to accept whatever Rin has to offer.

And it almost happens, if not for the drag of heavy boots thumping on the lobby floor close to them. A long shadow in the fire’s light passes over them, followed by a rumbling voice that almost—almost—forces them to pull apart.

It’s Sousuke, snowboard tucked beneath his arm. “Get a room you two.”

Rin slings both of his arms around Makoto’s shoulders in an exaggerated gesture of an embrace, his Matsuoka-patented grin stretching over his lips. “Get your own boyfriend,” he drawls in reply, and Makoto’s laughter bubbles up his throat. “Not our fault Haru loves the lodge’s mascot better than you.”

Not surprisingly, Sousuke is less than amused by the time he makes it to the exit, his face twisted into a grossed sneer. “Better that than having to look at you two suck face.”

While Makoto tries hiding behind his hand, Rin sticks his tongue out at Sousuke’s departing form. “There are easier ways to say you’re jealous, you know.”

Sousuke’s only response is to thrust his beefy arm in their general direction and give the two of them a very emphatic finger gesture as he exits the café backwards, snow covered boots crunching on the floor.

Unfortunately, his snowboard catches on the frame of the door, the loud crack of it reverberating throughout the cabin, startling every single person in the room.

There’s a whole second of pin-drop silence before Makoto feels Rin’s warm weight on top of him begin to vibrate, and the next thing he knows is, Rin’s sliding off him, shoulders shaking with laughter, leashed only by the fact that his face is seemingly permanently buried on the junction of Makoto’s neck. Makoto himself can feel his own laughter threatening to burst out his throat, and he smothers it on Rin’s hair.

The expression on Sousuke’s face is already priceless enough as it is, his previous smugness dissipating into a rare look of pure embarrassment, his teeth gritted, face flushed a bright crimson.  The door creaks, and from the very far corner of the room, a distinctive, exasperated sigh resounds: “Can you not get lost on your way to the door for once.”

Makoto raises his face from Rin’s hair, eyes dancing. “Haru,” he chides, tightens his arms around Rin’s to prevent him for reaching the glass. Rin mushes his cheek against Makoto’s own in retaliation. “Don’t be mean.”

But Haru is already halfway crossing the room, eyes soft even as they roll at Sousuke. “Too much effort,” he murmurs, already starting to work on dislodging Sousuke and his snowboard from the tricky café door.

“Cute kids,” Rin murmurs once they’re finally gone from view.

With a soft chortle, Makoto nudges his nose against his boyfriend’s temple. “Mm.”

Haru’s judging eyes peeks out again from halfway from the doorframe. “Stop being gross.”

Rin throws the nearest object at Haru’s head (Makoto’s beanie, thank god it was nearer to Rin’s hand than Makoto’s huge and heavy and monstrously spiky snow boot), which bounces harmlessly off Haru’s head. “Leave us alone and go be gross with your own boyfriend.”

Haru shrugs, picks up the beanie then looks at Rin with his usual unimpressed stare. Rin just glares back, arms tightening around Makoto’s neck. Makoto sighs, then turns his head to cast pleading eyes in his best friend’s direction, only for said best friend to ignore him while shoving Makoto’s beanie on his own head and casually strolling away.

Makoto groans as he leans back, playfully shoving Rin’s shoulder. “That was my only beanie.”

Rin just grins at him, sluggishly straightens himself so he could reach up and muss Makoto’s hair. “You won’t need it for today.”

“Oh?” Makoto chuckles, lets Rin press their foreheads together, so close that his eyelashes kisses Makoto’s brow, his breath ghosting over the tip of Makoto’s nose.

“You won’t be needing this,” and Rin tugs up on the green sweater Makoto’s wearing while planting an aimless kiss somewhere on his cheek near his mouth, “either.”

“Is that right?” A shudder makes Makoto’s voice skip but he otherwise keeps up his façade.

“Yeah, or this,” Rin adds with another kiss, this time with his fingers hooking into the space between his boyfriend’s abs and the waistband of his jeans.

Makoto shudders, stomach flexing beneath Rin’s touch, and the pleasant warmth shifts, transforms into that familiar, intense heat, the dangerous kind that threatens to break Makoto’s control. His hand trails down Rin’s spine, fingers massaging the small of Rin’s back, before dragging down to--

The Jaws theme starts blasting, and Makoto hastily pulls back his hand from Rin’s back, the movement jerky as if he’s been burned, and Rin, visibly frustrated, snatches the phone from the table and presses answer without looking. 

“What?” he growls.

Sousuke’s gruff voice growls through the speaker. “Seriously, get a fucking room.”

**\-----o0o-----**


End file.
